The Dog Tags
by FourSilverArrows
Summary: A tag for John's POV near the end of Letters from Pegasus. He does a little angsting over Sumner's death. Warning for language.


The Dog Tags

Spoilers: Rising, Letters from Pegasus

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the fine, fine characters.

Warnings: Language

Beta: J.A.B.

Challenge: From Patricia – use 'You won't feel a thing' at the beginning.

A/N: As usual, I took a poor challenge and sucked all the fun out of it with my scorching angst.

A/N2: John's POV.

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'You won't feel a thing.'

At least, that's what I've been telling myself for the past fifteen minutes.

So why am I still stalling? I've already walked by Ford and the video camera twice now.

The first time, I checked to see if Orin and the other survivors were doing okay after the culling. I also wanted to see if Teyla was still pissed at me over our argument.

The second time, I blankly stared at the preliminary data pulled from the Puddle Jumper we used to observe the Wraith Hive ships. I fidgeted until Grodin told me to stop hovering.

Now, I'm heading back to Ford.

Maybe the third time is the charm.

I stop unexpectedly halfway there. Which is pretty freaky since it's my body, and I thought I had some control over it.

Hell, I really need to talk to Zelenka, or to McKay, or some damn body to come up with a plan to defend Atlantis from the Hive ships.

I shouldn't be taping a message for whomever Sumner has back on Earth. Especially since I didn't even want to make a message of my own to send back to . . . well, it doesn't matter.

Elizabeth thinks I want to do this. She's a negotiator, a diplomat and a good leader for this Expedition. Usually, she's good at reading people's feelings and motives, so I guess she misread me.

Or maybe she didn't.

Just because I try not to talk about what happened doesn't mean I haven't had some nights where I just couldn't keep it off my face no matter how much I tried.

Maybe she thinks this will help me out. With what? Making peace with it? I don't even know if that's possible.

Sumner didn't even like me. He thought I was a liability, a disgrace, and some brash flyboy who didn't know how to take orders or have respect for the chain of command.

Thinking back over the mistakes I've made up to this point, I can't tell you he was wrong.

And the only time he trusted me was when he gave me that slow nod as he was being drained of his life. He trusted me to know what he was asking for, and for me to take care of it.

As the memory of his imploring eyes pops up unexpectedly, I gasp. I've tried so hard not to think about this, to bury it so far down, that any little reminder or stray thought can set off a bad reaction if I'm not ready.

Son of a bitch.

I can't do this.

"Major Sheppard? Sir?"

I look up to see Lieutenant Ford standing in front of me with a knowing look on his face. Ford's a smart kid and he saw the body when he came looking for me. Even though he's never said anything, he knows what I did.

He's probably guessed I still have Sumner's dog tags buried away in my room instead of turning them in to be packed away with the Colonel's belongings.

"Sir, they're waiting on the message. You have to do it now."

"I don't know what to say," I finally admit, and I feel my face flush.

"You'll think of something, sir," he says confidently as he leads me to the dreaded video camera.

'Won't feel a thing,' I mentally whisper through my budding headache, but I know I'm lying to myself.

Do I look as bad as I feel? My skin feels tight and I'm feeling a little unsteady as I look at the camera. Maybe it's a little bit of stage fright, because I'm suddenly very self-conscious about what my face and body are doing.

Ford goes over, nods to me, and tells me to go ahead.

Then the words just pour out of me.

It doesn't even feel like it's me talking because I'm using words like 'honor' and 'courage.'

As soon as the last words are out of my mouth, I realize they're true.

I do wish Colonel Sumner were still here. Not because I want to stop feeling like hell because I was the one that shot him, but because I—we need him right now.

Ford gives me a sad smile, but I'm too drained to respond to him as he takes the tape and leaves to find McKay.

On the slow walk back to my room, I think about those first days in Atlantis with Sumner and the others.

It seems so long ago.

The first thing I do when I get back, is to take Sumner's tags out of their hiding place and put them right where I can see them.

Out in the open.

Sumner was a good man, a good soldier and a good leader, and he deserves to have me feel something about what happened.

I might not be able to make peace with it just yet, but I'm not going to hide from it anymore.

END


End file.
